Evolution
by SnooteyFalooty
Summary: Barty Crouch Jr. from childhood until the days that let up to him being sent to Azkaban. "He's nine the first time he meets a muggle, fourteen when he first loves one, nineteen when he first kills one." BartyOC
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so ever since I've started reading Barty Crouch Jr. fics this idea kind of stuck with me and I've finally decided to do something with it. This story follow Barty from his childhood years to just before he helps Bellatrix torture the Longbottoms. Since I'll be writing snippets of his life chapters will sometimes be long and sometimes be very short. Also, I couldn't find anywhere how old Barty was when he joined Voldemort's regime, so I've manufactured my own timeline.**

**AN: English isn't my native tongue, so if I've made any errors grammar or spelling wise please excuse me.**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.**

* * *

He's nine the first time he meets a muggle.

It's summertime and he's walking around the neighbourhood, just enjoying his freedom. His father doesn't believe in holidays and his mother's too busy having lunches with the other witches of high society to bother paying any attention to him. He used to hate it, the fact that he seemed invisible to them, but he's come to enjoy their abscence. It gave him the freedom to do whatever he wanted and most of the time without consequence, as he'd discovered a while ago.

He squints in the sunlight and moves his floppy brown hair out of his face as he walks through the local muggle playground with a touch of arrogance. He loves this place, it's just so much fun. Children's magic isn't monitored, the ministry views that as a task for parents, but he doesn't have parents, not really and he uses that fact to his advantage. This park is his favourite because it holds several massive oak trees that he can easily hide himself behind. The one closest to the playground is his favourite, he likes to stand behind it and watch the ignorant little muggle children play with each other until he finds a suitable prey. He hasn't found anything quite as exhilerating as making one small child see the most terrifying things and cry for help to their friends, only to be turned upon by them.

He does love his mind games.

The scene he finds when he reaches his spot isn't the one he expected, but he isn't completely infamiliar with the sight.

There's a group of boys, slightly older than him, standing in a circle laughing at the pain they're inflicting on their latest victim.

"Hey, give it back!" A girl's voice reaches his ears and as the bulky boys shove her around he catches a glimpse of long brown hair.

It's twelve against one and the one doesn't stand a chance. He feels a sense of indignant righteousness as he watches the boys manhandle the much smaller girl, they should pick on someone their own size. He makes a snap shot decision and pulls out his mother's old wand. It's slightly damaged and doesn't hold much power, but he's managed to get some magic out of it. With two flicks of his wrist he puts a stop to such unfairness.

Within mere moments the boys have scattered, leaving the park screaming for their mommies.

He's too young to understand the meaning of hypocrisy.

He comes out of his hiding place to help pick up the dozen or so books that lie scattered throughout the sand. The covers hold titles he's unfamiliar with, but he's still quite certain that they're well beyond the girls age-level.

"Thanks." She says as he gives them back to her, a radiant smile on her face.

He's nine the first time he meets a muggle. She's six and wise beyond her years when she first meets a wizard and even though she knows nothing of his world, he likes her instantly.

**The next chapter should be up soon. Please review, though I'll continue this story either way, it does motivate me to work faster.**


	2. Chapter 2

He's eleven the first time _she _teaches _him_ something, instead of the other way around.

He's woken up that morning by the sound of an incessant tapping noise. He opens his eyes to see a large grey owl hovering in front of his window, a formal looking envelope attached to it's leg, if he didn't know any better he'd say the bird looked rather peeved. He shoots out of bed to open the window and let the tired animal inside. It rests at his desk, waiting for him to take the envelope of his foot, before shooting back out into the early morning sky.

His face breaks out in a grin when he sees where the letter originated from. _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _Finally his time has come, finally he'll be able to practise his magic more fully, finally he'll get his _own _wand and there'll no longer be the need to steal his mother's discarded one.

He rushes downstairs to share the news with his absentee parents, only to find that they're just that: absent. His father's not present physically, ever the workaholic, while his mother isn't there mentally. When he informs her of the greatest news they've ever had, in his opinion anyway, she merely looks up from her dayplanner with an annoyed sigh to tell him that she'll pick up his stuff tomorrow when she goes out shopping for new dressrobes with 'the girls'. The girls being the other shallow, emotionally absent, society bred mothers of the street. With a wave of dismissal she continues her preperations for some fancy event to raise money for some kind of boring disease. He should be used to her uncaring manner by now, has told himself in the past that he is, but he can't shake the sadness that he feels rising within him at his mother's uninvolved attitude to his accomplishment. Parents are supposed to be proud of you when you get into Hogwarts aren't they, even if it was expected?

"What are you still standing there for?" She asks him impatiently as she drags her fingers through her dry dyed blond hair. "Go upstairs and play, I've got work to do." Her tone clearly implying that he isn't welcome.

He shrugs off the hurt and walks back upstairs to get dressed, before leaving the house and walking the twelve blocks to his favourite spot.

He knows someone who will be happy for him.

--

It's still early in the morning and it's exeptionally chilly for mid june, but she's there anyway, sitting on one of the swings reading a book. Lucy's parents were killed during a robbery not long before he met her and now she lives with different people all the time, _foster care _she called it, but he has no idea what that means. It's just some silly muggle thing he assumes.

"Hello, Luce." He says with a big grin on his face, his fingers still clutching his Hogwarts letter tightly behind his back.

She looks up in surprise. "You're here early. I thought you said that sundays don't start until eleven AM."

"Well, today they do." His says as he feels his grin stretch even further over his face. "Guess what I got in the mail today?"

It takes a few seconds before she understands what he's talking about, but when she does she jumps off the swing with a scream to hug him, the heavy bookbag that was resting in her lap falling tot the ground with a loud THUNK.

"Congratulations, Barty." She says as she releases him with a smile and picks up her bag again.

His own smile falters when she doesn't say anything else. Lucy's smart, she skipped a few grades and she'll be going to secondary school this september, according to her it's like the muggle version of Hogwarts. He's been secretly hoping she'd turn out to be a muggleborn.

"Come on, I want to show you something." He says as he grabs her hand and leads her out of the park, his hope renewed. If he just takes her to a magical location and she sees it then he could write to Dumbledore and she'll go to Hogwarts with him anyway. _Yes, good plan._

"Barty, where are we going?" She asks him as he tugs her along yet another street. They've been walking for almost fifteen minutes already and have yet to reach their destination. He doesn't recall the place being that far from his home, then again, he's only ever traveled there by floo powder so what does he know.

"We're almost there, Luce." He tells her as he turns a corner with determined strides. A smile gracing his face when he finally recognizes his surroundings. At least now he knows he's going in the right direction.

"You said that ten minutes ago!" She exclaims with an indignant tone as she adjusts her heavy bookbag on her shoulder and lets go of his hand.

"Yes, well, I lied before. Now I'm not, however. It's just three more blocks, I promise." He says as he holds out his hand for her to take once more.

She takes it with a sigh. "You owe me cookies after this." She grouches as they continue on their journey.

Another six minutes later and they've arrived at their destination. He smiles when he reads the old and worn sign of the café.

_The Leaky Cauldron._

"Alright." She says as she looks around the nearly deserted street. "What did you want to show me?"

He points to the creaky black door that sits within the dirty brick wall.

"So, it's just a wall, what's so special about that?"

His heart sinks as he hears her question, but the prospect of going to Hogwarts without his only friend only encourages him more. _Maybe if he took her inside? _She is only nine after all, she's not yet of magic age and from what he's read muggleborns can't see magical phenomena before their eleventh birthday. But if he gets her inside, she'll see the bar and he'll have his proof for Dumbledore anyway. He's sure he'll be able to convince the newly appointed headmaster.

Nobody has said no to him before, Dumbledore won't either he imagines.

"It's not just a wall, Luce, it's so much more than that." He tells her with a slightly manic gleam in his eye as he guides her over to the door.

He grabs the doorhandle and grabs her hand as he moves forward, only to find her resisting his grip, an aprehensive look on her face. She doesn't know what he's trying to do, he realizes, she only sees him trying to shove her into a wall.

"It's okay, Lucy. Just trust me." She relaxes somewhat and he takes it as a sign to move forward. With a loaded sigh he turns the doorknob and steps inside.

His senses are immediatly assaulted by the dark interior of the bar, the smell of smoke and beer and so he doesn't notice that his hand s empty at first.

"Ah, young master Crouch. What can I do for you to-" The bartender asks jovially, but he's already back out the door before the man can finish his sentance.

When he's back outside he's greeted by his very confused looking muggle friend. "Where'd you go just now?"

"Inside the Leaky Cauldron, remember me telling you about it?"

She nods. "That's the way to the magic mall, isn't it?" He almost bursts out laughing at her description of Diagon Alley, though he has to admit that that's exactly what it is.

"Yes, I was trying to take you inside."

Now she's frowning in confusion. "I thought you said that muggles couldn't go to magical places, that that's why we don't see 'em."

"They can't, but I was hoping-" He trails off as he looks down at the ground.

"You were hoping that I wasn't." She finishes for him in a small voice.

He nods, but doesn't say anything. Inside he's a bit ashamed that he can't seem to completely accept the fact that she's simply a muggle, that he somehow feels that isn't enough.

"Come on, let go home." She says as she takes his hand and starts walking back the way they came.

He follows silently.

--

"I just don't understand why I can go and you can't." He says sulkily once they're back at the playground, both occupying a swing.

She just shrugs. "You're a wizard and I'm a muggle. You're Glenda and I'm Dorothy." She says with a sad smile.

"What?" He asks, not understanding why she just called him a girl's name.

"It's from a movie. Glenda's a witch in this magical land called Oz and Dorothy accidentally ended up there too and she had a lot of fun there, but she was a normal person and in the end she had to go home." She explains, though he still doesn't understand what she's saying.

"So, what has that got to do with it?"

She sighs. "I don't belong in your world, Barty. No matter how much we'd both like me to."

Sometimes he can't help but wonder how she got to be so wise.

"Yeah, but why am I a wizard and you're a muggle?" He knows that even wizards like Dumbledore probably couldn't answer such a difficult question let alone a nine year old, but he doesn't know who else to ask. Next to his parents she's all he's got and his parents have made it perfectly clear on more than one occasion that they have better things to do than answer his questions.

"Well I don't know for sure, but I suppose it's got something to do with genes." She tells him as she gently sways her swing back and forth.

Now it's his time to frown in confusion. "What are...djeens?"

"Oh, right you don't know about science. Genes are thing inside human bodies, both muggle or otherwise, and they decide all kinds of things in your body. Like if you have blue eyes or green or brown, your hair colour even intelligence up until a certain point. I'm sure there's a gene for magic too, how else could muggleborns exist?" Even though he usually has a hard time following her when she talks about muggle science, and finds her ideas rather rubbish, he has to admit that this time she makes sense.

"So how'd we get those djeens?" He asks. He may not be very interested in the muggleworld, but when he does find something to catch his attention he wants to know everything about it.

"During the evolutionary process, I guess."

He's confused again. "During the what?"

"Oh, boy." She sighs. "How to explain that? Oh, I know." She says as she reaches into her overstuffed book bag. She takes out at least six others before finding the book she wants. She lets out a triumphant yell as she finds it and shoves it in his hands.

"Here, read that." He looks down at the old and thattered book with a mixture of disdain and curiosity. _The origin of species _by Charles Darwin reads the title. Unlike Lucy, he's not a big fan of reading, but he'll read this one for her. He did drag her halfway through London for nothing, after all.

When he's curled up in bed later that night, reading that book she gave him, he grudgingly admits to himself that he's very intrigued by what this muggle wrote, even though he promised himself he wouldn't be.

The idea of _survival of the fittest_, certainly speaks to him.

Yes, he decides, he definitely like mister Darwin.


	3. Chapter 3

He's thirteen when he realises that she'll never be like him.

Things have changed between them since he went to Hogwarts. Instead of seeing each other every day they're only able to spend time together during the holidays. Frankly, she's the only reason he does come home, though he'll make sure that nobody will ever know that. Before he went to Hogwarts he barely had any contact with other witches and wizards,. let alone with ones his own age, and he could pretend that being friends with a muggle was a very ordinary thing. It's different now he's at school though, even those annoying little Gryffindors don't have any mugglefriends, muggleborn yes, muggle no, imagine how his fellow Slytherins feel about them.

So telling people about Lucy was a no go. If the other pupils ever found out about her, he'd never live it down. He'd be exiled and despised. He used to feel so high and mighty that he, a wizard, would spend time with a muggle. Now, after two years of Hogwarts where he was surrounded by other pureblood children, he feels slightly ashamed of himself for not being able to let go.

Muggles are lesser beings, he should make them do as he pleases, he shouldn't want or need one in his life and certainly not so much. It's undignifying in his mind and on several occasions, when he lay awake in his four poster bed at night, he told himself that he'd cut her out of his life the next time he went home for the holidays, only to strike out on his promise once he actually got there.

He'd set himself the same goal right before the end of his school year and yet here he was, at a muggle mall no less, helping her pick up her school supplies. At least he knows no one will ever catch him here.

Lucy hasn't changed much since he saw her last he muses, as he watches her rifle through a diary. She's gotten a bit taller, though she's still almost a head smaller than him. Her hair is different, longer and less curly than he remembers it to be, but for the most she's still the same. She still carries that bloody book bag everywhere, she still loves the same flavor ice cream and she still refuses to eat vegetables.

He doesn't know why that's so comforting.

--

It's the 31st of August and tomorrow he'll be leaving to start his second year at Hogwarts. They're sitting at their usual spot on the swings. He's looking around the playground with little interest while Lucy finishes her cookie dough ice cream.

It's times like these when he can't help but wish that she wasn't a muggle. He hates saying goodbye, though he'll never tell anyone that, not even her. She likes being a muggle, she'd told him once to his surprise. She finds the wizarding world and everything he tells her about it fascinating, but she doesn't need to be a part of it. She likes the world she lives in and she wouldn't trade it even if she could.

He feels a little disappointed in her for that.

"It's getting dark." She says as she looks around. "I should go."

"Yeah, alright." He answers with reluctance. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

--

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye then, at least for a little while." He says sadly.

Even though he has mixed feelings about Lucy's bloodline, he knows that he'll miss his best friend desperately anyway, just like he had this past year.

Before he knows what's happening she's thrown her arms around him. He can feel tears moistening his neck as she utters a muffled: "I'm going to miss you."

He doesn't answer, he just hugs her back for a moment, before telling her he'll be back soon. He's afraid that he'll cry too if he tells her he'll miss her as well.

--

When he returns home he finds his parents fighting about money once again. He walks past them without a second glance. They've never taken an interest in him, why should he take an interest in them?

His room is a mess, unpacked clothes and next years books are strewn across the floor. He picks them up with little enthusiasm, begrudging the fact that he can't use magic to clear everything. _Stupid underage magic restrictions._

When his trunk is finally packed he walks to his bed and pulls a familiar book out from under his pillow. He smiles as he runs his fingers down the worn spine, the author's name barely visible. Some of the gold lettering has faded beyond recognition. _D rwi_

He pulls a pair of socks out of his trunk, throwing one back carelessly, before cautiously placing the worn book inside the other.

The first time he accidentally took it with him to Hogwarts. He'd stumbled upon it when he was unpacking his more personal belongings just after his first ever feast at the school. He hadn't known what to do with it at first. He was in Slytherin now and the rest of his school career would certainly become a living hell if his fellow students found out he had read muggle books.

The smart thing would be to throw it away or better yet, incinerate it at the spot. But something stopped him. These muggle's ideas could still be of use to him here at Hogwarts, he'd reasoned, besides Lucy had given it to him after he'd told her he liked it and it was very rude to throw away a present, wasn't it?

He'd pondered his dilemma for a few moments more, before another student walked in and interrupted his musings. In an instinct reaction he'd shoved the book under his pillow and that's where it stayed for most of the year.

That's where it would stay this year too.

He'd keep this book his dirty little secret, just like the girl who had given it to him.


	4. Chapter 4

He's fourteen the first time he hears of Voldemort.

He doesn't have that many friends. He doesn't mind, really. Frankly, he finds his fellow students to be a bit annoyingly naïve and exhausting. Besides, trusting outsiders is never a smart move.

Oh, he has people that he socializes with, mostly the more elite type, since the lower class mainly consists of a bunch of brainless hippogriffs in his opinion. Not that the people he does spend time with are that much better, but they keep him entertained from time to time.

And there is an upside to being well-connected; you get to hear the latest news first.

They're nothing more than whispers in the dark at first, vague hints of a faction that's rebelling against the muggle suppression of the wizard world, a group of individuals under the leadership of one man, called Lord Voldemort, striving to once again make the pureblood wizard great and mighty.

He, like many of his Slytherin students, finds this to be quite a good idea.

When he and his 'friends' ask the teachers about this man they simply deny that he exists and change the subject, but he has heard them say otherwise. When they're alone and patrolling the corridors after bedtime, he's heard the professors talking about it in hushed tones as they passed him by, while he was hiding behind a statue by the stairs.

He learned to become invisible to the outside world a long time ago, back when the playground was his main domain, and he's taking full advantage of it now.

So he knows they do exist and that the school is lying to them. He can't help but wonder if it's because Dumbledore and the others believe it is for their own safety or if it's because they do not wish students to agree with them, fearing their own loss of power as the minister is starting to.

Yet, he lets his interest slide as time goes by and no new details of this group reach his ears. The whispers of the teachers remain the same, though they become a bit more fearful as the year progresses.

He's fourteen and he still has no idea how much Voldemort is going to affect his life.


	5. Chapter 5

He's fifteen the first time he truly loves something.

It's a cold night in December and the entire world seems to be covered with snow. He's home for Christmas holiday, but ever since he's come back he can't find the reason he came back for. Lucy seems to have disappeared. He's tried the playground, the mall, the bookstore, her house (which is quite a distance from his now, since she moved _again_), he even tried to used one of those bloody phone machines and still nothing.

Two days later she shows up at the playground like nothing has happened. He knows different, the cast around her arm says it all, but when he tries to talk to her about it all he gets is an angry: _"I fell."_

She's fallen down a lot this past year.

He doesn't mention it again, silently fuming at the people who did this to her and promising himself to put a stop to it if she's still living there when he comes of age.

--

The next day, he can't help but say something.

It's barely seven in the morning when he arrives at the playground, but she's already there sitting on one of the swings, sporting a shiner over her left eye.

He doesn't say something at first, just stands there staring at her while she tries to avoid eye contact.

"You have to tell someone, Luce." He says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

She snorts. "Yeah right, like who?"

"I don't know." He says as he sits down on the swing next to her. "You muggles have people for that, don't you? Got to the police or something."

"Oh please, they're way to busy solving murders to care that some kid is getting knocked around by their boozing foster parents. Nobody cares."

He sits down next to her with a sigh, slightly surprised at her choice of words. It's the first time in almost two years that she's actually admitted that those people are hurting her.

He doesn't know what to say to me her feel better and so he doesn't say anything, he puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes gently.

"I care."


	6. Chapter 6

He's sixteen when he gets his heart broken.

It's finally happened. Voldemort's army has come out into the open. Even better yet, they've been recruiting and he's decided that now is the time to join. He'll be seventeen in just under two months and he's certain that he could be a great asset to the Dark Lord's forces once he's come of age.

Some of his fellow students have the same mindset as him, he knows. Though no one would ever speak of joining his side within the walls of Hogwarts. It's become the foothold of the fight against the rebellion, everyday they're fed the same old nonsense about the Dark Lord being a dangerous wizard, an evil man who wants nothing more than to destroy the entire wizarding world.

Mindless propaganda is what it is and all those silly little students just drink it up like it's a glass of water in the middle of the desert. He knows better. Lord Voldemort is going to lead them into a new age, the age where witches and wizards are no longer restricted by those ignorant little muggles.

Lord Voldemort is the future.

--

"So, what? Now you're in a gang?" Lucy asks him incredulously.

"It's not a gang, Luce. We're the revolutionaries! The leaders of the new world, the fighters of oppression throughout the wizarding world!" He tells her, not understanding why she seems to be so uncomfortable with the idea.

"And how exactly are you revolutionaries and this Lord Voldemort going to make that happen?" He's getting angry at how cynical she's sounding. All those years of having to live with those horrible muggles, he'd think that she'd appreciate the idea of breaking free.

"We'll overthrow our government and build a new one with the Dark Lord at it's head. A government in which wizards will once again live out in the open and where the muggles will have to adjust to us, instead of the other way around. A world where the muggles will have to serve us."

Lucy looks a bit scared now, he notices, though he can't completely understand why.

"And what will happen to the people who refuse to serve you?"

"They'll have to be eradicated." He shrugs as if it's no big deal.

"You mean killed?" She asks appalled.

He simply nods.

"Well, what about me then? I'm a muggle, if I don't listen, are you going to kill me?"

"Of course not!" He sputters. "You're different, Luce."

She snorts. "No I'm not, Barty. I'm a muggle. Which according to you is something horrible."

"Luce, wait!" He shouts after her as she runs to the exit of the park.

She turns around, the bright light from the lanterns at the gate illuminating the tears that are rolling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Barty. But if you're going through with all of this, then we can't be friends anymore."

She turns and walks out of the park, out of his life, leaving him standing by the swings, frozen.


	7. Chapter 7

He's seventeen the first time he kills.

He's home for Christmas in his final year at Hogwarts and finally he's come of age. Though he can now perform magic without being monitored, the Dark Lord has yet to give him or his fellow students an assignment worth mentioning.

Spying on the teachers at school isn't what he imagined doing when he thought of overthrowing the government. He realizes that it wouldn't be done in a day, but he'd imagined it going a little faster than this. But it is not his place to question his master.

He hasn't spoken to Lucy ever since that night. He found that the shock and sadness quickly transformed into anger and hatred, which is good he supposes. Now she's just another filthy muggle, now he doesn't have to deal with all those conflicting feelings. Now he's free.

But it was only a matter of time before he ran into her again.

He hasn't been to the park since that day either, but today he was just wandering around the neighborhood not paying attention to where his feet carried him and they carried him back to his old haunt.

The park looks like it always did. Big oak trees and weeping willows are scattered along the grassy patches, which are in desperate need of a good mowing, and the playground, _his _playground is still there of course.

It, like the park, still looks the same as ever, though the paint on the jungle gym has faded somewhat these past years, the slide now covered with graffiti and the chains on the swings are covered with rust.

His gaze lingers on the swings for a second, feeling a pang of sadness at the sight of the empty seats, before he averts his eyes and shoves down the unwanted feeling. He shouldn't feel sad, it's not his fault that Lucy turned out to be just another stupid muggle who refused to see that wizards are simply better. She pushed him away, her loss.

He smiles as he can feel his slight melancholy give way to anger again. Good. He feels much more at ease with this emotion. Anger is good, the Dark Lord had said so himself, anger will help you. Anger and hatred will lead to victory over your opponents.

But as he turns around and catches sight of the object of his discontent it isn't anger or hatred that he feels. For reasons that are beyond him he feels panic strike him and before he knows what he's doing, he's hiding behind the tree near the swing sets. The same tree that he used to hide behind all those years ago.

He feels anger rise up, but this time at himself for being too cowardly to face her. Hiding behind trees from muggle girls is not what wizards do, this is so _beneath_ him and yet he can't manage to find the courage to show himself. Terrified that she'll see him, terrified that she'll want to talk to him, however unlikely that prospect, terrified that he'll want to talk to her too.

He hears a familiar giggle and sneaks a glance from behind the tree. Lucy, like the park and their playground…_No HIS playground_…hasn't changed either. Same long brown hair, same sort of clothes, still just barely 5'2. He watches as she squats down with a smile on her face as a small dog walks towards her with a huge branch in his mouth that's so long that the thing has trouble keeping his balance. His face scrunches up in disgust at the sight of the mongrel. It's small, fat and wrinkly all over. Its legs to short for its body and sausage-like, its face smushed and wrinklier than he's ever seen. He has a faint recollection of an old lady that lived in his street that had two dogs like that, she never would shut up about them. What did she call them again? Billdogs, bushdogs? Bulldogs, he remembers.

Inside he rejoices as his emotions settle themselves where they should be. He feels relieved when he feels his anger towards himself dissipate and the fuming rage towards his former friend skyrocket in his chest.

He can't understand why she can love and accept something so vile and hideous as that creature to slobber all over her, while she couldn't accept him. He'd loved her too, hadn't he? And she had thrown it back in his face.

He can feel a cruel smile forming on his face as the plan forms in his mind. He feels excitement as he watches her walk out of the park, that stupid dog following her and her smiling at it.

His grin grows wider. Tomorrow he'll wipe that smile off her face.

She took away something he loved, now it was his turn to return the favor.

--

It's nine AM the next day when he finally sees some movement in the house. He's been standing on the corner next to the house that Lucy is currently residing in for most of the night, not willing to risk leaving to get some sleep in case either her or one of her other family members decided to go downstairs in the middle of the night. He wants to hear just what his little handiwork will do to her.

He can hear footsteps on the stairs and he tries to imagine the look of horror on her face when she finds her precious doggie dead and hanging from the ceiling fan by it's sorry excuse for a tail. He regrets that he can't actually see it, but this small act of revenge will have to do.

He smiles as he hears her scream.


	8. Chapter 8

**So here's the new chapter, finally. I hope to update a little sooner next time, but no promises. School's just crazy right now and my stepdad's going through chemo, so things are a little busy here. **

* * *

He's eighteen when he gets his revenge.

Finally the time of his inauguration has come. In three days time he will become a full member amongst Lord Voldemort's ranks. In three days time he'll become a death eater.

But first, of course, he'll have to prove himself. Prove that he is loyal to the Dark Lord and to the cause.

His master refuses to tell him his task beforehand, but from what he's heard from other members, he'll most likely have to kill an oppressor, a muggle, chosen by Lord Voldemort himself.

For a moment he wonders who it will be, before he realizes that it doesn't matter.

A muggle is a muggle and every muggle less in the world is a step in the right direction. Muggles and mudbloods are nothing but filth that's keeping the good and worthy down. They're parasites living of the much healthier and stronger species and it has gone on long enough. It's time for the strong ones to evolve, time for the weaklings to die out.

Survival of the fittest.

He believes with his entire being, body and soul, in his master and knows without a doubt that he's doing the right thing. Yet, as the day of his inauguration slowly creeps closer he starts to feel uneasy.

He writes it down to excitement and nerves and ignores the continuing tightening of his chest and building pressure in his head.

--

The night has come at last and, in paradox to his feelings over the week, he feels oddly calm about the whole situation. Detached, he thinks as he looks at himself in the long black robe. His face is pale, but he knows it's not from fear, he's never had much color in his cheeks. His brown hair now slicked neatly back instead of bouncing around all over the place. He looks much older than his eighteen years he notes.

"It is nearly time, my dear Barthemius." He turns to see his Lord standing before him and immediately bows his head in respect.

"Yes, my Lord. I'm ready." He says, keeping his head bowed until he feels a cold finger lift up his chin.

"Good." Voldemort says as he sways over to the table where Barty's wand still lies. "You know, my boy, when I first met you I had my doubts about you." He says softly as he fingers the wand thoughtfully.

He looks at his master in shock. "You-you had, master?"

"Oh, yes." He states, still studying the wand, almost memorizing it. "I have many great powers as you well know, Barty. One of them happens to be legimency. I read your mind like a book the first time I saw you. Your relationship with that muggle made me doubt your allegiance to me. It made me wonder whose side you were really on."

"I'm on your side, master, always." He says quickly, terrified that the Dark Lord would not believe him. "The muggle was a mistake. I have no feelings but hate for her now, sir."

He feels nervous as his master regards him silently, his head bowed to one side.

"You must believe me, my Lord, I would never-"

Lord Voldemort raises his hand to silence him before a slow smirk crosses his features and he hands him back his wand.

"We'll know soon enough." He says as he moves past him to leave the tent, leaving him wondering what's so amusing.

--

When he steps outside he knows. They are not, as he had expected, in some forest far away from any type of civilization, nor are there muggles tied to trees, crying because they know the horrors that will be bestowed upon them soon.

Instead they are standing in front of a dilapidated house, not far from his own. A very familiar house.

He jumps as he hears his master's voice beside him. "You told me that you only feel hatred for this being, Barthemius. Yet I still have my doubts. Time to assure me, my boy." He says as he pushes him toward 305 Belleview Road. "I'll be waiting. Don't come out until it's done."

On shaky legs he moves closer to the house, not looking back once, fearing that the Dark Lord will see it as a sign of weakness. His hands are shaking too, he notices as he points his wand at the locked door. "Alohomora!"

The front door of the house bursts open with a bang. He waits a second, expecting someone to come see what made such a loud noise, but no one comes. It is then that he hears the loud music coming from upstairs.

He enters quietly, even though he couldn't possibly be heard with that ruckus going on upstairs, he prefers not to take any chances. He's feeling nervous enough as it is, he'd prefer to have the element of surprise a little longer.

He's climbing the stairs to her room when the last of his calm leaves him, giving way to sweaty palms and nausea as he reaches the door to the bedroom. With another wave of his shaky hand this door too bursts open.

"Hello Luce. Long time no see." He says as he turns down the music with a flick of his wand and he comes face to face with his former best friend.

"B-Barty." She looks scared he notes. _Good._ "What are you doing here?" She asks him with a shaky voice as her eyes focus on his wand, which is now pointed towards her.

He grips his wand tighter in an effort to still his arm. He shaking all over now. The realization of what he's about to do really sinking in now. Why does he feel so reluctant to act, he's dreamt about this so many times, he wanted this to happen, didn't he?

"I think you know, Luce." He tells her as he moves further into the room.

He watches as her eyes shift from him to his wand to the door and finally the window, before she makes a dive for the door.

"STUPIFY!" In a blaze of blue light she's thrown back into the desk that's in the corner of the room, her head hitting the edge on her way to the ground.

Terrified eyes stare up at him as blood seeps out of her hairline. He raises his hand to move in for the kill.

"Barty please don't do this." She pleads as tears leak from her eyes.

He falters as he remembers just who he's talking to, but only for a moment as the thought of what will happen to him if he fails enters his mind.

He forces himself to think only about the bad things she's done and drown out the good memories of their time together. Looking back, they weren't that good at all, they were fake. Illusions of a person who understood him through and through that in the end died when she saw what was really underneath. Lucy's just like all the other muggles, when she saw something she didn't like, something more powerful, she ran for the hills, cowered in fear.

She's weak, he reminds himself. They're all weak. And to make the strong ones thrive the weak must be exterminated.

Survival of the fittest.

"Avada Kedavra!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay, so here's the new chapter, finally! I hope you'll enjoy it and I'll try to get the next out quite a bit sooner than this one. **

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He's twenty when he starts to go insane.

Everything is dark here. Even on the hot summer days like now, Azkaban is ruled by a darkness and cold that seeps into every orifice of his being. He has long forgotten how long it's been since he was a free man. To him it's been an eternity, a never ending abyss of voiceless screams and dry tears in the night. He doesn't even remember what freedom really entails, he can only recall that it isn't this horrible excuse for a life.

He winces as he shifts on the bare stone bed. Months of barely being fed has led to him losing most of his fat, he can feels his bones poking out of his skin. There are soars all along his vertebrae and he is sure that the wounds on his hips and bottom have left bloodstains in his clothes.

In the distance he can hear Bellatrix scream profanities at anyone who will listen and soon she is joined by half his cell block. The guy in the cell next to him is mumbling incoherently, it's silent and he can't make out what he's saying, yet those tones sound louder than all the prisoner's cries together in his mind.

The nights are the worst. During the day he can still manage to feel like he has some semblance of self left in him. He listens to the other prisoners talk about what's going on outside the prison walls, reads the Daily Prophet whenever he can get his hands on one to look for news on his master's so called death. He isn't dead, he tells himself. _He can't be._

The day goes by slowly and by the end of it, aside from the agonizing pain of not moving and a cold in his heart that doesn't seem to dissipate, he almost feels like he's human again, like he's alive again.

But then _they _come to take him away.

Two of them, hooded and scaly, come to take him to what the minister for magic referred to as the 'interrogation room'. He has long been drained of any information that could be useful against his master and he knows now that imprisonment isn't the real punishment for his crimes, this is.

Halfway down the hall he loses the ability to walk, fear and nausea threatening to overtake him as they lead him away. He feels their scabby hands grab him by the arms and drag him further down the hall. Everything goes dark.

When he opens his eyes he knows where he is, instantly. His heart starts slamming in his chest as a reaction. He doesn't fight against the bonds that strap him to the cold wooden table, he learned long ago that it is of no use. There are more of them now, at least eleven or twelve, he can already feel the cold and pain and heartache overwhelm him. It hurts and the voices won't stop it's so cold, oh so cold and he can't _breathe _and it won't _stop._

_Mrs. Neville's agonized scream as he performed the cruciatus curse once again._

_A puppy dog hanging from a ceiling fan._

_Mr. Neville begging for death._

_Bellatrix laughing as she sliced through a group of third grade muggle children on a field trip to their hide out._

_His father sending him to Azkaban without batting an eye._

"_You are not my son."_

_Lucy's cold dead eyes staring back at him._

"_Barty please don't do this."_

He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out anymore. He's screamed it raw a long time ago.

In the morning he's escorted back to his cell. He winces as he shifts on the bare stone bed and he can hear the man in the cell next to him muttering.

He never takes notice that there isn't someone in the cell next to him, nor does he recognize his own voice.

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**This was the second to last chapter, the last one will come out soon I hope. Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

He's thirty-two when it ends.

His heart is racing with fear and excitement all at once, but his mind is clear. He knows he will not make it through the night. He has received no word of what became of his master's plan, but he knows it was successful even if the Potter boy survived.

He knows his master has been restored, for he can see the utter fear in the boy's eyes when Potter looks at his true appearance. For a moment he feels his stomach twist as he remembers seeing that same look of terror in the eyes of a girl he once called his friend.

_What was her name again?_

He notices that same look in the eyes of his old headmaster, the stupid git, though he knows there is no fear in those blue orbs because of him. He knows how he must look, emaciated and insane from years in Azkaban and the prison that was his father's house. He is a pitiful excuse for a human, even he knows that, even if he doesn't really remember what being human was like. No, Dumbledore doesn't fear him, but he fears what he represents.

_A shift in power is at hand. Your reign will soon be over, old fool._

He can feel Lord Voldemort's power rising, he can feel the dark mark scorch his skin and feel his blood boiling in his veins as it demands for him to answer his master's call.

_He's back. _

He knows he will die, either at the hand of one of the ministries' executioners or by a kiss from a dementor. To him it doesn't really matter anyway. Azkaban and the dementors already stole his fear, his life and his sanity. If he were to believe in the existence of a soul then he is sure they've already sucked him dry of it many years ago. He knows there is nothing left of who he used to be, most of the time he can't even remember his own name let alone what sort of man he is, or was.

All he can recall are snippets of a life that seems to have ended centuries ago. All he knows now is his loyalty to his master, his role model, his _true _father, if not by birth than by the love and guidance his real father never gave him.

His master can't help him now, he knows, but it doesn't matter. He has fulfilled his mission and has repaid his debt to Lord Voldemort. His master walks freely. He has served his purpose, he is done.

There is nothing left of him now. There is nothing left for death to take.

--

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**THE END.**


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